


Anything

by amyoatmeal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Awkward Flirting, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Gratuitous mentions of cake, Human Castiel, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Post-Purgatory, Romantic Fluff, winter fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 17:32:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16917261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyoatmeal/pseuds/amyoatmeal
Summary: A newly human Cas has never had cake before.  Dean's fixing to change that.





	Anything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AngelwithacapitalA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelwithacapitalA/gifts).



> Hey, guys! This is a Christmas present for AngelwithacapitalA. She wanted fake relationship so I did my best lol. She also hates cake and I'm that kind of friend. Don't say I never gave you anything ;) Hope you guys enjoy it! Xo

“Dean, can I ask you something?”

Dean tilts his head towards Cas across the hood of the Impala, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he closes the driver side door with its tell-tale creak. “You just did,” he points out, eyebrows arching in challenge. His hands find their way into the pockets of his wool coat.

“ _Dean._ ” Cas says it like a grating chastisement, but there's a subdued fondness ghosting behind his features. Perhaps it's due to the unadulterated exuberance Dean couldn't tamp down on the drive across town.

He’s still getting used to Cas being around. Being human too. Bringing Cas on hunts. Cas just being there with him. And the speed at which he so rapidly has come to depend on Cas’ presence scares him, but it also fills him with a feeling Dean can only surmount as happiness. The feeling is surreal after everything they've been through. Yet still, there's something else poking at him every time he stares at Cas just a little too long and Dean does his best to ignore it.

Letting out a quiet chuckle, Dean shakes his head as he rounds the car and steps up onto the curb to meet Cas whose hands are also stuffed deep in the pockets of his trench, clutching to keep warm. Cas isn’t used to temperature fluctuations yet, but it’s unseasonably frigid today regardless. There's a light dusting of snow coating the concrete and the string lights strung between the lamp posts dance along the length of the main street emitting a warm glow. As they meander down the sidewalk, their dress shoes leave neat footprints, stark against the white snow, and Dean can feel Cas staring expectantly at the side of his face, but he pretends he doesn't notice for a couple reasons. Mainly: it's amusing him.

“Okay, shoot,” says Dean after a few feet, lifting his clenched fists to his mouth now desperate for warmth. Fog curls around his fingers as he breathes into them and he can feel Cas staring still.

“Why are we here? Shouldn't we be getting back to Sam?”

“Beats me,” Dean says with a quick shrug of his shoulder, purposely hiding his smirk behind his hands. “You’re the heathen that’s never had cake before. Far as I’m concerned, that’s blasphemy.” Turning to his reflection in the store front window, Dean fixes his collar and lays his slightly rumpled black tie as flat as he can. A few errant hairs are pushed back into place before Dean sets his sights on Cas’ reflection standing awkwardly beside him, watching. The etched, gold letters arching across the pane of glass break up his figure. Kathy’s Kakerie. It’s got that faux-Parisian flair thing going for it; a witty slogan underneath reading “Let them eat cake”. Dean spotted it on their way back to the motel yesterday. “Might as well do it right if you’re gonna do it at all,” he adds, turning his full attention back to Cas now.

“I hadn't exactly had any occasion; not that I would have been able to enjoy it much, what with the molecules and all.”

“Well, the times they are a’changin’, Cas.” Dean laughs. “What molecule does cake taste like anyway?” he asks, itching fingers already finding their way to the knot of Cas’ perpetually backwards tie. Cas just lets him. Dean doesn't think about it.

“Well, there's dihydrogen monoxide, sucrose, and sodium hydrogen carbonate, to name a few. Not to mention-” 

He aims to continue, but Dean cuts him off, palm raised. The other straightens out the points of his collar and slaps a contented pat to center of his chest when he's finished. “Yeah, sorry I asked, Bill Nye,” Dean says with a playful roll of his eyes. 

Gripping the curved brass handle, Dean pulls the door open with the tinkling of the bell hung over the door. He holds it, sweeping his free arm out towards the awaiting warmth. “After you, sunshine,” he says, grinning wide at the way Cas ducks demurely past him. Dean can almost feel the shy heat radiating off Cas’ pink cheeks, despite the cold.

They scuff the snow from their shoes on the wet mat by the door, hit by the intoxicating aroma of fresh pastries and chocolate ganache. Not to mention the comforting wall of warmth engulfing them like a familiar hug. The bakery isn't busy today, which is good because Dean didn't make an appointment. Hell, he wasn't even planning on being here at all until Cas let his confession slip this morning while they were on their way to check a couple victims at the morgue. 

“I’ll only be a moment,” calls a sing-song voice from somewhere in the back of the shoppe.

“Must be Kathy with a K,” Dean mutters out of the side of his mouth, clearly amused. 

Cas gently bumps his elbow into the meat of Dean’s ribs and casts another chastising glare his way before ditching him altogether in favor of examining the glass display cases filled to the brim with bite-sized morsels. He bends at the waist to read the swirling script scrawled onto the miniscule, tented labels, his trench billowing near his knees. He eyes some sort of blueberry roll, then states, “There's too many choices. How will I know which one to try?” His voice sounds rife with misplaced concern which only serves to make Dean’s chest swell with strange affection.

Crossing the space after him, Dean grips his hands over Cas’ shoulders and squeezes, leaning his head down to look at whatever Cas is looking at. “You act like I don't know what I'm doin’, Cas,” he says, tossing Cas an easy smile.

Cas looks apprehensive to say the least. “Should we get something for Sam as well?”

Just then, a blonde-haired woman comes sweeping around the corner covered head to toe in flour and chocolate smudges. She rubs the back of her wrist over her forehead in a vain attempt to clean herself off, but it only makes it worse. Dean chuckles, but it dies on his lips when Cas shoots him another look. 

“Hello, I'm Kathy. Anything I can help you gentlemen with on this chilly afternoon?” Her eyes flit from Dean to Cas, assessing the tight sliver of space between their bodies and Dean’s lingering hands.

“Uh, my name’s Don, and this here,” he starts, wrapping an arm around Cas’ waist and giving him a swift tug, “This is my fiance… Craig.” Dean pauses, subconsciously willing Cas to get with the program. “We’ve heard amazing things about this place and we, uh, we were hopin’ to get the wedding cake sampler?” He didn't mean for it to end on an uptick, but Dean can feel Cas’ wide, blue eyes engulfing the side of his face and he can feel the soft exhalation of Cas’ breath tumbling out against his cheek as Dean’s hand comes to rest on the small of his back. It's more than a little unnerving. “We’d love to get a cake here for our special day,” he chimes with a wide grin, “Isn't that right, honey?” He tosses Cas a face full of plastered-on pride as he gazes into the panicked eyes of his fake fiance.

The look on Cas’ face is a mixture of surprise, confusion, and a third thing Dean can't place, but finally Cas gulps it down and, without breaking eye contact, stutters out a “y-yes, we'd love to.” The beginnings of a smile tinting his expression into something less terrified. Something softer.

Kathy’s eyes practically light up like a friggin’ Christmas tree, clearly none-the-wiser. She clasps her hands together in a rush of excitement and squeals, “Of course! Follow me!”

They're led into a small side room with one of those dainty, wrought-iron patio tables. A painting of the Eiffel Tower hangs above it. Kathy clearly loves a theme. 

“Luckily I keep a few trays refrigerated on the off chance someone misses an appointment,” she says it with the heavy implication of the staggering divorce rates. “The sampler comes with six different flavor combinations. I hope that will be alright with you.”

“More than,” Dean assures her, hand still guiding Cas, “We'll take anything we can get.” It's true, but he and Kathy still share a tittering laugh like it's an inside joke from the white suburban mom book club.

When they're seated on one side, Kathy tells them she will be right back before disappearing back into the kitchen.

As Dean sidles his chair closer to Cas with a scrape, he rests his arm across the back of Cas’ chair in order to really sell this thing and Cas visibly stiffens. Cas hisses low, “I don't understand why we couldn't have just selected something from the cases to try, _Don_.”

Dean meets his eyes, but can't suppress the laugh that bubbles up when he does. “Because, _Craig_ , the wedding cake sampler is complimentary. And now you get to try more than one thing,” he explains. “Damn, is it really that rough being engaged to me?”

Cas looks away towards the curling filigree of the table. “No, I suppose not,” he mutters, suppressing his own amusement. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Now that's more like it,” Dean says, clapping a hand to Cas’ shoulder with another affectionate squeeze. It makes the corner of Cas’ mouth turn up in a half smile, which in turn, gives Dean a whole, genuine one complete with eye crinkles.

They're not waiting terribly long before Kathy pops back into the side room looking a lot more clean and carrying a fancy, silver tray with six, perfectly-round circles of cake. Each one having the same familiar scrawl in ink as the labels in the display case. The edges of the paper are scalloped and the whole display is cloyingly cute. And of course, there's only one fork placed between the two rows of cake like it’s part of the display. Like it’s daring Dean to pick it up. He did not think this through, apparently.

Dean gulps, and Cas seems to have the same sudden realization. “Well, I gotta say… it looks great, Kathy,” he says, plucking the fork off the tray with a disguising smile. He thanks Whoever that Kathy is seemingly oblivious to tonal shifts.

Kathy smiles, clearly taking pride in her presentation, as she eagerly watches the two of them fidget in their seats. She points to the first one on the right closest to Dean. “This one is a Dutch chocolate with hazelnut cream. I hope neither of you have a nut allergy.”

Dean is quick to appease her. “No, I love nuts! Don’t I, Craig?” is what comes out, thinking of all the times Cas has judged him for eating the questionable bar nuts whenever they go out. It only dawns on him afterwards the phrasing could be twisted into an innuendo when he turns his head and Cas’ face is on fire, the comforting palm of his hand rubbing over the back of his neck. Dean can't help but laugh at his expense.

“That you do, Don,” he forces himself to say.

On the other side of the table, Kathy lets out another tittering laugh. Dean thinks it might just be her regular laugh now. 

“Go on,” she urges, “Try it.”

Lifting the equally dainty fork, Dean spears the tiny cake round in half, only big enough for two bites, and he awkwardly raises the fork a few inches from Cas’ lips. For a moment, Dean thinks Cas is going to blow this whole thing, but then his head tilts forward, pink lips hesitantly capturing the thin prongs of the fork. Dean finds he can't look away. His own mouth subconsciously parting as he watches Cas pull away. Cas looks between Dean and Kathy like a deer caught on the wrong side of some headlights as he swallows. Dean remembers himself. 

“So, what did you think, hon?” He asks before shoving his own bite into his mouth, trying to fight back a moan around the velvety texture of the chocolate cake.

“I like it,” Cas says casually, more casually than Dean feels about it for sure, “But I think I'd like to try them all before committing.”

Dean swallows, a sly smile forming on his face. “He said the same thing when I proposed,” Dean jokes conspiratorially, a hand to his mouth in a mock whisper. Cas rolls his eyes. Kathy eats it up. 

“Oh, I love proposal stories! They're the best part of the job! Please tell me how you two met,” she practically pleads.

Dean and Cas exchange a silent look, but Dean didn't plan a background story. “We met through work,” Dean manages to say as he goes in to cut the next piece of cake. French vanilla with vanilla bean buttercream. “Craig does accounting. I run a small family business. You get the gist, yeah?”

“Oh, that's lovely! How long have you two been together?” She seems thoroughly enraptured.

Dean opens his mouth to approximate an answer when Cas’ rough gravel answers in his place. “Five years, three months, and two days,” he rattles off, matter of factly like it was on the tip of his tongue, before leaning in to capture the fork Dean’s holding to his mouth again. So much for approximations. 

Dean gives an awkward laugh thinking about how long its been. How long he's had his head up his ass. “Yeah, somehow he's not sick of me yet.”

Cas looks at him, expression firm and genuine, despite Kathy staring. He lays a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder and says, “I promise you, I get sick of you every day.” The laugh that bursts out of Dean has his head falling back. Cas smirks, clearly pleased with himself, as he grabs the fork out of Dean’s hand. Spearing the other half of the vanilla cake, Cas raises the fork to Dean’s lips once he's calmed down and Dean falters. Cas arches an eyebrow and looks at Dean demandingly, like two can play this stupid game, and he says, “Open up.” 

It’s all Dean can do to listen as Kathy asks another question.

“This one is nice. Simple. I like it better than the first, don't you?” Cas asks him, slipping the prongs caught between Dean’s lips out. He holds them there a second longer than necessary. 

Dean supposes that's a residual thing. Something something about molecules. He clears his throat. “Sure,” he says, eyes trained on Cas’, but he's not listening very well.

“So, how did you propose?” Kathy’s hands are clenched in front of her, oblivious to the heat in Dean’s cheeks and the twitch of interest he feels in his lap, yet still anxiously awaiting some dime-store, gay love story to unfold before her very eyes.

“Yeah, tell her, baby,” Cas encourages, tone just this side of patronizing, “You tell it so much better.” Dean tries not to focus on the sound of Cas calling him ‘baby’, the way it rolled off his tongue.

“Uh,” Dean starts, coming back to himself. He lets out a breathless laugh and shakes his head to jostle something to the forefront of his mind. Think, Winchester. “Uh, well, funny story actually,” he says to buy him time, but crap, now he needs to think up a funny story. Cas and Kathy have the same expectant faces. Like whatever Dean says will be news to them. Shit. It's news to him too. 

“We were on an… extended vacation,” he starts again and he can see Cas’ head tilt with confusion, his eyebrows pinching, but Kathy can't see it so it's fine. “We’d had a pretty bad fight not long before. Our first real one maybe. But anyway, just before we were leavin’ I guess I just realized, I couldn't go another day without him in my life. Sure he'd ignored my calls and whatever, but that's the first time I really knew, yah know? So I asked him plain as anything and, honest to God, he said no.” Dean laughs, but Cas looks like he's still puzzling it together.

“Oh no!” Kathy says with a laugh. “What made him change his mind?”

“Good question,” Dean points and redirects his attention to Cas. “What made you change your mind, honey?”

Cas squints at Dean, still processing his ‘fake’ proposal story. Dean gulps. “I was promised there would be cake,” is what Cas goes with. Dean rolls his eyes, but a loud snort escapes into the back of his hand.

“Hey, I delivered, didn't I?” Dean says gesturing to the tray sat in front of them.

“That's true,” Cas says as he feeds Dean another flavor. Lemon with raspberry jam. “You did very well.”

Kathy, apparently enjoying their witty back-and-forth, smiles. “You two are going to make it, I can tell,” she decides.

“How can you tell?” Dean asks around his bite of cake.

“After fifteen years making wedding cakes for couples, you can just tell the good ones from the bad. Call it bakers intuition, but you two are going to make it. You're one of the good ones.”

Dean doesn't know why, but a shiver of pride flows through him and he can feel an earnest grin splitting his face. He looks at Cas. Cas is blushing now, a shy smile dancing across his face. 

“Thank you,” Cas says warmly, but there's a hint of resignation there too. “That means a lot.” Cas feeds himself the other half of the lemon cake, but a smudge of raspberry jam settles into the crease of Cas’ mouth. 

“You missed a spot.” 

Subconsciously, Dean finds himself reaching across to brush the pad of his thumb along the plush of Cas’ bottom lip, still wet from Cas’ tongue. It tingles where their skin meets. Without much thought, Dean brings the thumb to his own mouth to suck off the tartly sweet jam before he realizes exactly what he just did. Idly, Dean thinks to himself that he’s never touched Cas there before, but fuck if he doesn't want to do it again. He mentally scolds himself for it. They’re not even a real couple for Christ’s sake.

He swallows when Cas turns wide eyes on him, zeroing in on his lips, but they're not mad. Confused maybe. They look pained and vaguely hungry. “Thank you, um, Don.”

“No problem,” Dean says with a forced smile to hide his terror, but he knows that wasn't really part of the charade.

They finish the rest of the cake samples much in the same way, awkwardly feeding flavors to each other while Kathy pries into their elaborately fictitious life. A life that Dean admits to himself isn't so far from the truth, aside from the Hawaiian honeymoon, but he's never been able to solve the mystery of how to broach that topic with Cas and he always pulls away when it presents itself. Leave it to him to thrust an uncomfortable and unnecessary romantic situation into the mix just for shits and giggles.

Cas was probably right. They should be getting back to Sam.

They stand in tandem, thanking Kathy for her kind hospitality and friendly conversation while the three of them walk out to the main shoppe, Dean’s hand somehow finding a place on Cas’ lower back again, guiding him.

“You never told me,” Kathy says, “What was your favorite flavor?”

Cas liked the French vanilla as Dean suspected.

Dean takes a second to ponder. He enjoyed the chocolate the most, but for some reason his mouth is moving and it's saying something suspiciously similar to ‘raspberry jam’ through a smile turned close to the shell of Cas’ ear. For Kathy’s benefit, clearly.

Turning her attention to a very flustered Cas, Kathy points to Dean. “I like this one, he's a real charmer. They make the best husbands.”

“You have no idea,” Cas says. 

Dean laughs. “Hey, c’mon now! I meant every word!”

Cas ignores him. “Kathy, is there any way we could take a slice of each with us? In order to make a better decision?” 

Dean knew Cas was going to love cake, despite all his protests in the car on the way over.

“But of course!” She rounds the side of the display cases and grabs a white box off a high shelf. As she folds it up, she asks, “Is there anything else I can get for you, gentlemen?”

Dean and Cas exchange glances.

“What about Sam?” Cas asks close between them.

What about him, Dean thinks, but he caves anyway. “Uh, yeah, you got anything close to rabbit food for my health nut of a brother?”

Kathy pauses, thinking it over. “I’ll see what I can do,” she says with a nod.

“You're awesome.”

She gently places two glorious pieces of cake into the paper lined box and peruses over what other treats she has sitting in the case. Some dry looking scone manages to make its way into the box and Dean knows that simply because he doesn't like it, Sam is going to love it. 

The cash register clicks as she rings up the total, assuring them the cake tasting is complimentary, and then she's handing the box over, sealed with a golden Eiffel Tower sticker. “I hope to see you both very soon,” she says with a smile and Dean can't help feeling a bit like an asshole for tricking her.

“Oh, don't worry,” he says, draping an arm over Cas and thrusting the box into his empty hands, “You will.” He winks anyway before turning them towards the door. 

Just as they're about to step through, Kathy tells them to wait. Dean glances back and Cas waits, head tilting per usual. She points up and their eyes follow. “You almost forgot the mistletoe!” Sure enough, there's a tiny sprig of the stuff tied with a bow hanging off the bell. Cas stiffens under the weight of Dean’s heavy arm.

“Right, of course.” Dean chuckles to hide his panic and turns his head to Cas, who looks like he’s having some sort of internal freak out to match Dean’s own, but they’re being watched and they’re almost out the door. Dean bites the bullet and tilts his head, leaning forward into Cas’ space, where he presses a chaste, if not a bit awkward, kiss somewhere between Cas’ cheek and his lips. He can feel the puff of air hit his skin on Cas’ shaky exhale, but it's over in seconds and Cas is out the door. Almost immediately, Dean knows he fucked up.

“You should hold onto him,” Kathy says, amused. “He’s kind of grumpy, but I can see it in the way he looks at you when you're not looking. Like you're the only one in the room. That's why I married my husband.” She taps at her wedding band. “Coming up on twenty years.”

Dean’s breath hitches at the notion that Cas looks at him any type of way. “Congratulations,” he says on an exhale. He means it, but he’s still processing this new information. How's Dean supposed to know if it's true if he's not looking? “See you soon,” he says with a smile.

The door closes behind him with a brassy jingle. The only evidence that Cas was out here at all is the retreating footsteps etched in the snow that look eerily similar to Cas’. Why Dean knows that, he couldn't say, but he follows them back to the Impala anyway. Sure enough, when he gets there Cas is leaning against the passenger side door and the cake box is sat on top of the hood. The expression on his face is illegible. His arms are wrapped tightly against himself to fight the cold.

Reaching into his pocket, Dean dangles the keys off his fingertip with a quirked eyebrow. “Forgetting something?” He tries for humor.

Cas doesn't look at him. Just keeps his eyes trained on the sidewalk for a few moments.

“C’mon, man, don't be mad. I know I crossed a line back there and I'm sorry. I got carried away.”

“Did you mean what you said?” Slowly, his eyes pull up to meet Dean’s. Dean’s drawing a blank until Cas clarifies, “About purgatory.”

Oh. That. 

Dean swallows thickly, but he takes a hesitant step towards Cas anyway. “Y’know, funny story actually…” He chuckles. Cas waits and Dean can't find it in himself to lie anymore. “I meant every word,” he repeats, and he means it this time.

Cas nods, but his face is still crumpled. “Why didn't you tell me?” 

The sound that escapes Dean is breathy. Somewhere between a sigh and and a chuckle. “Believe me, I tried. You weren't so easy to get a hold of then.” Dean thinks about all the time Cas spent away from him in purgatory, again when the angels fell. Dean told him to go, but Cas really left. He knows why. There's a reason for everything, but it still scares him.

Suddenly, Cas is stepping into his space, closer than Dean ever remembers him being. His eyes are blue and the twinkle of the lights play off them as he looks Dean square in the eye. It reminds Dean of his grace, but he doesn't get a chance to dwell on it before Cas is cupping his cold palms on either side of Dean’s stubbled jaw. He pulls him down gently and Dean goes willingly, too stunned to do anything else. With one last shaky breath, Cas captures his lips properly. It's warm and dry and Cas’ lips are chapped from the cold, but Dean’s eyes flutter closed and his hands come up to rest on Cas’ waist. His lips taste faintly like sugar and the subtle hint of raspberry. Distractedly, he wonders if Cas can still taste molecules. Cas’ tongue prods at the seam of Dean’s mouth, asking permission, and Dean opens for him, tongues shyly meeting each other, before Cas pulls back. His eyes still glued on Dean’s mouth.

“What was that for?” Dean breathes, fog curling up between them with a pant.

“Might as well do it right if you're gonna do it at all,” Cas mimics sounding far too confident, thumbs idly brushing against Dean’s cheekbones.

“You son of a bitch,” Dean says, playfully, and Cas grins. His expression shifts to something serious as he looks to Cas’ lips. “Hey, Cas, can I ask you somethin’?”

“Of course, Dean. You can ask me anything.” He says it easy, like it's clear as day.

Dean brings a hand up to tilt Cas’ chin up again. He looks into the blue of his irises, the crease in his brow, and back to his parted pink lips. He smiles. “Can we try that again? I don't think we got it quite right yet.”

Cas rolls his eyes, but it's done fondly enough. They kiss again.

When they pull apart, their hot breath intermingles in the air between them, foreheads knocking together. “I feel the same way, you know,” Cas says. It sounds strangely like a confession.

Dean didn't know then, but it's nice to know now. 

“Good to know.” He smiles and reaches for the cake box behind Cas’ waist, pushing it into his hands again. “Now, get in the car before you freeze your ass off,” he murmurs against the side of Cas’ face. “I'm not done with you yet.”


End file.
